


Art, Life, and the Sincerest Form of Flattery Thereof

by jukzi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukzi/pseuds/jukzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Today’s teenage audience wants to feel like they see something we don’t. They want to ship an OTP that will allow them to post a ‘started from the bottom, now we here’ gif on Tumblr someday.”</p>
<p>“Are you even speaking English?”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Or, Bellamy and Clarke are actors who have crafted one of the most tantalizing slow burns in the history of television. But it has absolutely not spilled over into real life. Not even a little. They swear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Casting

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a very, very long time since I wrote any fan fiction. We're talking Ron/Hermione stuff back before they were 100% canon. Yeah. It's been a while. But lately, I keep having all these ideas for these two crazy kids, and here's one of them. I'm not entirely sure how long this will be, or where exactly it will go, or if I will ever even finish it, but I'll do my darndest. I have a feeling the rest of the chapters will be longer, as I sort of used this one as a bit of a prologue.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy.

Bellamy first meets Clarke Griffin at his final callback for a pilot he actually thinks he has a pretty good shot at landing.

He hasn’t been told much about the show, other than that it’s some kind of teen dystopian thing, which will no doubt get picked up by The CW. The character he’s auditioning for is named Isaiah, and he’s this gallant, noble prince who’s supposed to come from another land and sweep the main character, a feisty-but-sheltered princess, off her feet. Bellamy thinks he’s done a pretty good job of pulling that off so far. He’s definitely made sure to slick his hair back and sit up straight and smile charmingly a lot. So far, the casting crew has been into it.

But when he walks into the room for his final callback and sees Clarke, who’s already been cast as the princess, he loses his footing and spills his hot coffee all over her shirt. He tends to turn into a klutz around hot girls, and there’s Clarke, all blonde surfer waves and tantalizing curves and mischievous lips, so it’s really not his fault. It’s the universe’s.

“Oh, shit,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.” He then makes the classic mistake of instinctually trying to help clean it up, which really just means he rubs his tiny paper napkin against her chest for a few seconds before she swats him away.

“I got it,” she says, short.

“Jeez, I was just trying to help,” he says.

“Non-consensual groping, not so helpful,” she spits.

He will never bring coffee to an audition again.

The casting director and showrunner and a few other producer-types stream into the room to sit behind their table before Bellamy can somehow convince her not to hate him.

“Oh, good,” says Marcus Kane, the showrunner. “You’ve already met.”

“You could say that,” says Clarke, through gritted teeth.

Bellamy scrubs a hand across his face. There is literally no way he gets this part now. What’s her problem anyway? It was clearly an accident. He apologized and obviously he wasn’t intentionally feeling her up. Now she’s going to ruin his chance at a huge part? Well, fuck her.

“Why don’t we get started?” says Kane.

The scene is easy enough, and Bellamy has studied it relentlessly. It’s the first time his character and the princess are alone together. He’s supposed to be placidly charming and she’s supposed to be coyly charmed and there should be a lot of half-smiles and blushing.

Instead, her first line, “What are you doing here?” – which is supposed to sound surprised and impressed and breathless because he managed to find her alone – comes out like an accusation.

And he feeds off of it. Somehow, this perfectly nice scene turns into a clash of wills from their shift in tone. At the end, when she says, “I should go,” and turns to leave, he’s supposed to stop her by catching her arm, then kiss her on the hand before she runs off. Without thinking, he catches her hand and hauls her flush against him. She lets out a little gasp and he can feel the coffee from her shirt soaking into his. He brings the hand he’s still clutching up to his mouth and kisses her knuckles firmly before releasing her.

They stare at each other, breathing hard, until Kane startles them out of it with a, “Wow.”

It finally hits Bellamy how royally he has screwed this callback up.

“Sorry,” he says, “that was… I just… I’ll go now.”

“Don’t you dare,” says Kane, rifling through some papers on the table.

Bellamy glances sideways at Clarke, who is looking at Kane like he just sprouted a new head.

“What, you think _he’s_ our Isaiah?” she scoffs.

“Absolutely not,” he says, brandishing some papers. “Try this scene on for size.”

They both step forward and grab a page from him. Bellamy studies it for a moment. The only lines are for the princess and someone named Jax. He assumes that’s supposed to be him. They’re arguing. It’s perfect. This part, he can maybe get.

They do the scene, and even though he only had a few seconds to look it over, it feels good. At the end, he steps so far into her personal space, looming over her, that she steps back and knocks over her chair. But she recovers, delivering the final line while stepping even farther into his personal space, grabbing the front of his shirt in her fist and tugging him down so they’re practically nose-to-nose. Unconsciously, he glances at her lips. He can’t help it.

There’s silence for a beat, and everything fades away except for her too-blue eyes and her breath mingling with his and her hand on his chest. Then everyone else in the room bursts into applause and whistles and hoots and Kane is pulling him away from Clarke to hug him.

Kane ruffles Bellamy’s hair, loosening it from its style. “Oh yeah,” says Kane. “He’s definitely our Jax. I was starting to think we’d never find him, but he found us.”

Bellamy looks around, and every face (except Clarke’s) is beaming at him like he’s the second coming. He tries to remember the casting notice for this Jax character. Wasn’t he the rebel leader, or something like that? And wasn’t he just a recurring character, not part of the main cast? Why is this such a big deal?

“I’m lost,” is all Bellamy can think of to say.

“Okay, Bellamy, I’ll level with you,” Kane says. “Jax won’t be a main character to start. But if this show does as well as we think it will, you’ll be a series regular in no time.”

“Still lost.”

“Today’s teenage audience wants to feel like they see something we don’t. They want to ship an OTP that will allow them to post a ‘started from the bottom, now we here’ gif on Tumblr someday.”

“Are you even speaking English?”

Kane sighs. “Isaiah is a red herring. The audience will think we intend for him and Princess Lila to end up together, but we don’t. They will, predictably, throw their support behind Lila and Jax and they’ll think it’s some kind of grassroots movement. Meanwhile, we’ll work the long game with Jax and deny the crap out of it at Comic-Con.”

Bellamy chances a glance at Clarke, who is pacing. He’s pretty sure this is the first she’s heard of all this. She seemed pretty convinced Isaiah was really the love interest.

“I think I get it now,” he says. “So I got the part?”

“If you’ll have it, it’s yours.”

Bellamy pauses, nodding, as though thinking it over. “Where do I sign?”

Everyone laughs, except, of course, Clarke.

“We’ll fax everything over to your agent first thing tomorrow,” says Kane. “There’s one thing we have to agree on first, though. With both of you.”

Clarke stops pacing and joins them by the table.

“You two - ” Kane says, pointing back and forth between Bellamy and Clarke “ - cannot date each other. You can’t hold hands at a Lakers game, you can’t be seen canoodling at a café, you can’t get snapped by the paparazzi walking a dog together – nothing. We want the audience to be completely desperate to see your characters together, and a real relationship between you two could completely kill the desperation.”

Clarke lets out a slightly terrifying bark of laughter.

“You are in absolutely no danger on that front, Marcus,” she says. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Bellamy tries not to be offended. But, you know, fuck her.

“She’s not my type,” Bellamy says, sour. “Scout’s honor.”

And generally speaking, she’s not his type. In the past, he’s always gone for leggy brunettes who are hot in a kind of angular, scary way. So it’s not a lie. But it would be a lie if he said he hadn’t already pictured her naked more than once.

They glare at each other, both with smiles that are more like grimaces.

“Great,” Kane says brightly. He steps between them and slings an arm around each of their shoulders. He’s looking back and forth between them like a proud father (not that Bellamy would know what that would really look like). “This is going to be fucking epic.”

Bellamy closes his eyes and prays not to screw this up.


	2. Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the lake with the cast and crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little blown away that there are actually people out there reading this. Hi, people! Thanks for stopping by.
> 
> This chapter is longer, as promised. Please forgive any errors because I honestly started getting a little cross-eyed while trying to proofread.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy!

Clarke regrets nothing about dropping out of med school to become an actor.

Her mother had been royally pissed, of course. When you’re Abby Griffin, one of the most prominent doctors in LA, it’s bound to be disappointing when your daughter decides not to follow in your footsteps and instead gets bitten by the acting bug. Clarke had been pretty much cut off, at first, but then her best friend, Wells Jaha, had convinced her mom to come to her first play, a low budget production of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. After the show, during which Clarke had pulled off a spot-on Helena, her mother had hugged her tightly and gotten all misty eyed and weepy. Suddenly, after that, Clarke started getting calls to come in and read for parts. She knew her mother was using her connections and it kind of pissed her off, but she made sure to kill the auditions, and the bit parts started pouring in. She had _NCIS_ , _Scorpion_ , and a particularly hilarious turn on _Mike and Molly_ under her belt when the call came from Marcus Kane.

Kane, she felt a little weirder about, because she knew him already. Her mother always evaded questions about the real history with Marcus, because Clarke was convinced there was some romance in their past, but she was at least aware that they’d gone to college together and that her mother had introduced and reintroduced her to him many times over the years at hospital fundraisers and the like. He was one of the top dogs in teen TV drama, his last two projects having become hit shows that went on long, successful runs. For his new show, he wanted Clarke to read for the lead. She’d been so nervous, she totally screwed up the first scene, all timid and scared, but then she recovered and delivered the second one they gave her like a boss.

As it turns out, that’s exactly the character development Princess Lila is supposed to go through. Kane thought she was so insightful for having picked up on that and she didn’t correct him.

She doesn’t even regret getting Finn Collins, the guy she’d been kind of dating, an audition for the part of Isaiah. Even though his _girlfriend_ showed up right after his final callback audition. Not to mention the fact that he’d gone on to get the part. So far, it’s been easy enough, shooting romantic scenes with him. She’s starting to realize he’s one of those actors who is always acting; the ones who don’t really have a personality of their own.

If she had to name one teeny tiny baby regret, maybe it would be the first impression she made with Bellamy Blake. He came in to read with her right after Finn, right after she’d found out the guy she was dating had a super hot long-term girlfriend, and it was easy to take everything out on Bellamy. Especially when he came in, all bumbling and nervously adorable, and spilled coffee all over her. It was clearly an accident, but it was all the extra heat she’d needed to become an inferno of bitchiness.

Since then, she’s thought a lot about sending him some kind of apology. She even browsed Amazon for a spill-proof travel coffee mug she could send him with some kind of goofy apology card, but then she thought better of it. The antagonism between them was what made him the perfect Jax. If they’re going to pull off that volatile chemistry, maybe an apology is a bad idea.

They’re a few weeks into filming on location in North Carolina with four episodes complete, and she and Bellamy haven’t even had a scene together yet. She’s barely seen him on set, and when she has, he always seems to be flirting with this one really cute wardrobe assistant. A lot of the cast and some of the younger members of the crew have been hanging out a lot off set, going to local microbreweries and little dive bars, or spending days off tubing on the lake or hiking in the mountains, but she’s mostly avoided all of it out of sheer exhaustion. Being the lead on a TV show isn’t as easy as her mother probably thinks it is.

The two-bedroom house she’s renting in Asheville is adorable, and she couldn’t even get a closet-sized studio in LA for what she’s paying for it, but she’s hardly spent any time there. She keeps spending the night on the couch in her trailer, justifying it by thinking of the extra hour of sleep she gets by eliminating the commute.

It doesn’t help that she’s predictably let her obsessive workaholic tendencies seep into her acting career. Over weekends, she finds excuses to stick around set doing whatever she can, whether it’s watching dailies with Marcus or putting in extra time with the combat coach, Lexa. Her character isn’t even supposed to know remotely how to fight yet, but someday she will, and Clarke wants to be fully prepared. It also doesn’t hurt that Lexa is obscenely hot.

It’s Friday night and she’s just finished a particularly grueling session with Lexa. She drags her leaden legs back to her trailer, where she plans on passing out for the night, but when she opens the door, Marcus is there, sitting on her couch.

“Clarke,” he says, serious. “Consider this an intervention. Go home. And don’t come back until Monday.”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t left this set in weeks,” he says gently, standing up and holding her by the shoulders. “The makeup artists keep complaining about the bags under your eyes and don’t think I didn’t notice you dozing off during the table read yesterday. You’re going to burn out. I can’t have that. So go home.”

“But – “

“Nope. No excuses. I’m the boss and I say go home.”

Her shoulders sag. “Fine.”

“Great,” he beams. “Oh, and maybe try to socialize with the cast and crew a bit. You’re supposed to _play_ a princess who lives on a mountaintop, not _act_ like one.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, but I tell it like it is,” he says, softening. “I think they’re all going to Lake Lure tomorrow. You should go.”

She knows. Finn invited her. Which is at least 75% of the reason she wasn’t going to go.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it,” she lies.

“Uh huh,” he says, skeptical. “I’m serious, Clarke. We’re in TV. This is supposed to be work, but it’s also supposed to be fun. Try having some.”

God, of course she’s massively screwing this up.

He gives her shoulders a squeeze. “See you Monday,” he says, and slips out of her trailer.

She plops down heavily on the couch and looks around. She’s actually going to have to _pack up_ to go home for the weekend. Marcus is right. This isn’t normal.

The problem is, it’s pretty normal for Clarke. She has a pattern of throwing herself so fully into things that she doesn’t even realize how miserable she is until she’s drowning in it. Every relationship she’s ever had has been like that. Med school was like that. It only dawned on her how unhappy she was when her first year ended and she had a few weeks off and suddenly she could breathe again.

It’s not okay.

She looks through her contacts and realizes she only has two castmates’ phone numbers. One of them is Finn. The other one took her phone and put himself in as “Call for a good time,” instructing her to let him know if she ever needed any weed. His name is Jasper and he plays her character’s beloved cousin, Reed. They’ve had a few good laughs on set, so maybe it wouldn’t be so weird to text him. She spends at least ten minutes trying to craft a text that is casual and not awkward.

_Hey, it’s Clarke. Are you going to the lake tomorrow? I’m thinking about going, but I’m not sure where everyone’s meeting up._

He texts back almost immediately.

_OMG YES THIS IS AMAZING YOU HAVE TO COME EVERYONE’S GOING TO PEE THEIR PANTS_

She laughs. He texts again.

_Seriously, I’ll pick you up. Where do you live? I swear I’m an excellent driver._

She doesn’t even know her own address, but she’s able to find it in an email from her realtor about the lease. She sends it to him.

He responds with. _That’s right around the corner from me. I’ll be there at 8._

_Such an early call time? I thought tomorrow was my day off._

_LOL. OMG. I can’t believe this is finally happening._

She wonders if she’s been a topic of conversation among the rest of the cast, whether they speculate about why she never hangs out with them. If Jasper is any indication, it might have been talked about enough to become a _thing_. She really doesn’t want it to be a big deal, because it shouldn’t be.

On the way home, she gets lost twice. She sleeps in a real bed and gets the most incredible night of sleep ever.

When Jasper honks the next morning, there are two other people in his Jeep. She recognizes the girl as Maya, who plays a servant, and the guy is definitely a member of the crew, but she’s not sure she’s ever learned his name.

“Clarke, this is Monty,” Jasper says, gesturing toward the guy. “He works in lighting. And Maya, you already know.”

“Hey guys,” she says, climbing in the back with Maya.

“God, this is awesome,” Jasper says. “I can’t believe you’re really here, Clarke.”

“Don’t mind him,” Maya says. “He never went to high school. To Jasper, hanging out with the lead actress on a TV show is kind of like hanging out with the prom queen. Love your hat, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says, relieved. She’d worried that her big, floppy straw hat was a little much. “The makeup artists already hate me enough for the bags under my eyes. If I show up on Monday with a tan, or worse, a sunburn on their porcelain princess’ skin, I think they’ll murder me and have me recast.”

“See, she’s even funny!” Jasper says.

“Dude, shut up,” says Monty. “You’re scaring her.”

The ride to the lake takes 45 minutes, and Clarke actually enjoys it. Jasper’s exuberance is perfectly tempered by Monty’s dry pragmatism, and Maya is just really, really, genuinely kind. She likes them all.

Clarke didn’t really dress for the trek through the woods to get to sandy little cove they’ll be spending the day at, but there’s sort of a path for most of the way and she only has to stop a few times to clear rubble out of her sandals.

They’re the first to arrive, and Clarke sits on a towel watching Jasper unload the giant tote bag he brought. First, he takes out actual _water wings_ , blows them up, and puts them on, like he’s five. Then he sets up some small speakers hooked up to his iPhone and starts blaring Taylor Swift. Then he pulls out a bunch of beach toys, mainly brightly colored plastic shovels and buckets.

“I’m going to build the hugest fucking sandcastle ever,” he says when he notices her watching. “Fit for a princess, of course,” he adds with a little bow.

She’s reapplying her SPF a million when a boat coasts into the cove and drops anchor. The first thing she notices is that the guy driving the boat is massive with tattoos, a shaved head, and a strikingly chiseled face. Hell, his body is strikingly chiseled, too. Behind him is that cute wardrobe assistant Bellamy is always flirting with, looking incredible in a red bikini. Then Bellamy appears out of nowhere, hoists the squealing wardrobe chick over his shoulder, and flings her off the boat into the water. He and the guy driving the boat high five and Clarke studies him.

Has he always been this upsettingly hot? It probably helps that he’s not wearing a shirt, so she can really appreciate for the first time the broadness of his shoulders and the definition of his chest and the way his board shorts hang just low enough to accentuate the vee of his hips. His hair is disheveled and curly in a way that suits him so much better than that slicked back Malfoy-wannabe disaster he was working with at the callback. He’s also smiling, which, you know, damn.

She remembers how abruptly she’d dismissed the idea of dating him when Marcus had mentioned it and cringes. Of course, that really had nothing to do with Bellamy, and everything to do with an overall disgust with the male gender thanks to Finn. She’s not disgusted now, though. Now, she’s so overwhelmingly aware of his presence, she’s buzzing with it.

The wardrobe girl emerges out of the water and steps onto the beach like a much, much better version of _Baywatch_ , and Bellamy’s not far behind her. Clarke tries to keep casually applying her sunscreen like she’s not freaking out.

But she is. She really is.

\-----

Bellamy’s trying to make the best out of third-wheeling with his sister and her new boyfriend, even though it by definition blows.

Lincoln’s cool enough. He’s a local sculptor who was hired by the show’s art department and while he looks completely terrifying, he’s actually a really nice guy with a sort of gentle presence that’s good for Octavia. She seems happy, anyway.

When he’d begged Indra, the head of the costume department, to please, please interview his sister for a job, he hadn’t really expected much. Octavia had just graduated from design school, and surely, Indra already had a much more qualified staff in place. But as it happened, one of the costumers didn’t want to leave LA and O got her shot. And Indra, who has a reputation for being kind of a bitch, has really taken O under her wing.

He can’t even explain how much it means to him to have her around again. Their mom died when Octavia was 16 and he was 21 and he spent the next two years putting his hopes for an acting career on hold in favor of being a legal guardian. The day O left for college, she said, “Good. Now you can stop being such an idiot and move to LA. Virginia is for lovers, as they say, not actors.”

It never felt right, though, with her so far away, like a part of himself was missing. So now, even if he has to tag along with her and Lincoln on a Saturday morning boat ride, having her here is perfect.

They pull into the cove where everyone’s meeting and he tosses Octavia into the water before following behind. The first thing he notices as he steps out of the water is that there is a very loud Taylor Swift song playing, undoubtedly Jasper’s idea. The second thing he notices is Clarke.

He stumbles back a step, as though walking through a current that doesn’t exist. She’s wearing a black bikini, which… he needs a minute. He never realized how fair her skin is, but there it is, creamy white and smooth. And she’s _rubbing suntan lotion on it_. He might pass out.

His legs start working again right as she looks up and notices him. They lock eyes and she smiles shyly and his mouth is so dry he can’t even swallow down his anxiety. She puts the sunscreen bottle back in her bag and slips a dress over her head, which turns out to be floor-length and black and he wants to burn it.

He’s vaguely aware of Monty, Jasper, Maya, Octavia, and Lincoln all greeting each other not far away. He can hear cans being popped open and laughter and Jasper singing along to the music. But then he’s right in front of Clarke, and he’s more aware of the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

“Hey, Princess,” he hears himself saying.

“You know, you can just call me Clarke,” she says.

“I could, I guess, but I prefer Princess.” He’s not really sure what he’s doing. Is this supposed to be charming?

She sours a bit. “O… kay,” she says with a shrug. She takes a deep breath. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at your callback. I was having _the worst_ day, and I took it out on you. So I’m sorry.”

He certainly didn’t expect that.

“No worries. I should be thanking you. The tension got me the job, remember?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to decide whether I should even apologize. You know, in case burying the hatchet would make us worse at our jobs.”

“Speak for yourself,” he grins. “I’m an outstanding actor, you know.”

She laughs, and the sound is throaty and addictive.

“I’m sure you can find some way to piss me off before we do a scene together, if need be,” she says.

“If it gives us a hit show and means we get to keep our jobs, I’ll do anything. So what, like, hair pulling?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She starts to draw circles in the sand with her toes. “So, you and that wardrobe assistant, huh?”

His brow furrows. “Octavia? What about her?”

“How long have you been, you know… a thing?”

He blinks at her for a moment, then explodes in laughter.

“What? Why is that so funny?”

“Well, technically, our relationship has been going on for 22 years now.”

“Jesus, 22 years? Is she even 22 years old?”

“Exactly 22, in fact.”

As if on cue, Octavia skips up to them and flings an arm around his shoulders.

“Clarke, meet my baby sister, Octavia.”

Clarke immediately covers her face with her hands. “Your sister? God, I’m so awkward.”

“No, seriously,” he says, reaching out for her forearm. “You wouldn’t believe how often that happens. Don’t worry about it.”

“What, you thought we were dating?” Octavia asks. “Yeah, that does happen weirdly a lot. Maybe we should stop hanging out so much.”

“Bite your tongue,” Bellamy says.

“You must be an only child,” Octavia says to Clarke. “People who think we’re dating always seem to be only children.”

“Guilty,” Clarke says, looking at her feet, and something in her tone hints that the only child thing bums her out. Bellamy and Octavia share a glance.

“Well, if you want, I’d be willing to share Bell,” Octavia says. “I know he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got more than enough overprotective big brother bravado to go around.”

Clarke smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Octavia abandons his side and loops her arm through Clarke’s like they’re best friends.

“Come meet my new boo, Lincoln,” O says. “We’re way out of each other’s leagues, don’t you think?”

Bellamy sees Clarke’s puzzled look before they turn away toward the rest of the group, which has expanded.

Miller, who has quickly become his best friend in the cast, joins him and hands him a beer, even though it’s not even ten.

“And so the princess descends from her ivory tower to walk among the common folk,” Miller says.

“Nah, I don’t think she’s like that,” Bellamy says. “I think she’s just… intense.”

“How do you mean?”

Bellamy is kind of embarrassed about how acutely he’s observed her, especially considering they haven’t even worked together yet.

“Well, I mean, I’m pretty sure she’s been sleeping in her trailer most nights. And she always seems to be seeking out extra time with the combat coach or the choreographer or the writers or _someone_. It’s like she’s always working and doesn’t know how to turn it off.”

Miller is quiet for a moment. “Sounds like _somebody_ has been keeping a pretty close eye on _somebody else._ ”

“I’m just a generally observant kind of guy.”

“Right,” Miller says.

They stand facing the water for a minute in companionable silence, sipping their beers.

“Can I give you some brotherly advice?” Miller asks. “You know, as the guy who plays your estranged younger half-brother on TV?”

“Fire away, bro,” Bellamy says.

“Go after the things you want.”

Bellamy expects more, but Miller doesn’t elaborate. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s the secret to life, man. People spend so much time agonizing over every little decision they have to make or settling for a shitty, unfulfilling life, when all you really have to do is just go after the things you want and not go after the things you don’t want. It’s that simple.”

“Who says I’m not going after the things I want?”

Miller gives him a skeptical look.

“If that were true, one of two things would be happening. Either you’d be making out with Clarke on Lincoln’s boat or laying the groundwork to get Clarke to make out with you on Lincoln’s boat.”

“Does it have to be on Lincoln’s boat? What if she gets seasick?” Bellamy jokes. He chooses not to argue with the Clarke part. They haven’t known each other long, but Miller gets him.

“The point is, standing around talking to me doesn’t seem like a very good way to get what you so clearly want.”

“Okay, hypocrite. If you want to play this game, how is standing around talking to me doing anything to get you what you want? And what is it that you want, exactly? Because if you say it’s me, I’m going to blush so hard.”

“For the last time, Blake, you’re not my type.”

“Well what, then?”

Miller polishes off his beer. “It’s not that simple for me, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, nobody seems to know if Monty’s into guys or not. Why don’t you just ask _him_?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to spook him. That’s just not how it works.”

“Well, it should be,” Bellamy says. “And for your information, Clarke made it very clear within practically minutes of meeting me that she would never, ever be interested in me. So even if I did want… that… which I don’t, it’s already off the table.”

“Bummer,” Miller says.

“Not really, man. Let’s look on the bright side. Do you realize that pretty soon, we might be like D-list famous? Our prospect pool is about to go through a massive population boom. Do you know how many times a day we’re about to hear, ‘Aren’t you that guy from that show?’”

“What if the show gets cancelled after three episodes?”

Bellamy elbows him in the ribs. “That is the kind of negativity neither of us needs in our lives, Miller.”

“Fine, fine,” Miller says, and they settle back into silence for a moment. “Want to toss the football?”

“Jesus, man, why didn’t you open with that?”

\-----

The cove is pretty small, so Clarke spends most of the day figuring out ways to avoid Finn. At work, she’s able to compartmentalize, leaving Cheating Asshole Finn off set while tolerating Castmate Finn out of a sense of professionalism. But here, on this beach, he’s Cheating Asshole Finn. She really, really doesn’t want to make a scene, which she has a feeling she won’t be able to stop herself from doing if he tries to talk to her.

So she confides in Octavia.

“God, what a prick,” Octavia says. It’s early afternoon and Clarke has long since lost count of her beer intake. She and Octavia have become that kind of fast friends you make at summer camp, except more so because there’s alcohol involved.

“I know, right?”

“You should tell her. His girlfriend, I mean. She’ll totally kick his ass. Did you know she’s a WWE wrestler?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Bell recognized her the one time we met her and geeked the fuck out. He likes to pretend he’s not into that stuff but he totally is.”

Clarke fights a grin. “Professional wrestling?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was really into Stone Cold Steve Austin as a kid. He used to strut around the backyard with two cans of soda, then bang them together and pour them all over his face.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Apparently, Stone Cold used to do it with beer,” Octavia says. “Anyway, Raven. She’s a total badass. Bellamy showed me some clips on YouTube. Finn would be completely fucked.”

Clarke has thought about telling her. She’s thought about telling her a lot. But at the same time, that would involve actually having to _tell her_ , which would be completely unbearable.

“I’m scared she’d want to kick _my_ ass,” Clarke says.

“Well if she would, that would be bullshit. I hate when girls do that, blaming the other girl when some asshole cheats on them. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault her boyfriend sucks.”

Clarke chances a glance at Finn, who is, of course, staring at her. “He does suck.”

“Well if he tries to talk to you, I’ll like growl at him or something. People really freak out when you growl at them.”

“I can imagine,” Clarke says, grinning.

But by late afternoon, Octavia leaves with Lincoln so they won’t have to have the boat out after dark. Bellamy stays, having been offered a ride home by Jasper.

Clarke is busy calculating the percent chance she ends up sitting next to Bellamy on the ride home (67%, assuming Monty or Maya take shotgun) when he plops down next to her on her towel.

“O said I need to keep you company to ward off sharks?” he says.

Clarke feels extremely warm. It’s a hot day to begin with, but then there’s the beer and Bellamy’s body heat radiating off him in waves. She might faint. Or melt. Or spontaneously combust.

“That would be nice.”

“Collins, right? He’s the shark?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, he’s spent the better part of the day staring at you like he wants to eat you, so that was a clue.”

“I think you missed your calling, detective.”

They settle into a comfortable silence, staring out over the water.

“You know,” Bellamy says, “ _Dirty Dancing_ was filmed here. We should probably go practice some lifts in the water to pay homage.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not letting you lift me over your head.”

“Who said anything about me lifting you? I was thinking the other way around.”

Clarke grins. “Nope. Not doing that, either.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouts, “Nobody puts Bellamy in the corner.”

“Oops. Just did.”

God, why does he have to be so… cute?

Clarke flops onto her back, not caring that her hair will still be sandy three washes from now. Monty, ever the lighting technician, is setting up tiki torches at perfect intervals to create a dreamlike glow as the sun sets. Bellamy lowers himself down beside her.

The sky is a million colors and Clarke wishes she could paint it.

“You and I aren’t supposed to be friends, you know,” she says after a while.

“I’m pretty sure we never agreed to that. I remember the no dating part, but no one ever said anything about friends.”

Clarke’s not sure what to say. She doesn’t think she should tell him that she’s starting to think she won’t be able to be his friend without tearing his clothes off sooner rather than later. She’s not sure how she could possibly explain that his freckles fascinate her or that she melts a little when she thinks about how sweet he is to his sister or that the idea of kid-Bellamy running around impersonating his favorite wrestler is the most endearing thing she’s ever heard.

“Yeah, well. The most important thing to me is how good the show is. I’m worried the…” she almost says chemistry “… tension was a one time thing and we’ll screw it up.”

“Well, we shoot soon. I guess we’ll see then.”

“I guess we’ll see then,” she echoes.

Soon, they’re joined by Monty and another guy whose name Clarke can’t remember. Nathan, Maybe? The rest of the group is set back farther from the water, playing some kind of raucous drinking game, but the four of them just watch the sunset, speaking only in whispers when they need to.

It’s dark when they ramble through the woods back to the Jeep. Bellamy wore flip-flops, so he’s even worse prepared than Clarke. Monty gives her his extra flashlight and she and Bellamy bring up the rear together. At some point, Clarke realizes she’s holding his hand. It serves a functional purpose, of course, but how did it happen? Who reached for whom? She can’t be sure. She doesn’t let go, though. Neither does he.

When they get to the Jeep, Bellamy volunteers to sit in the middle, even though he’s the tallest. At some point, she must fall asleep on his shoulder, because he gently shakes her awake when they get to her house and the first thing she’s aware of when she wakes is his vaguely spicy scent mixed with his coconut sunscreen.

She groggily thanks Jasper and gives everyone else a general wave.

As she climbs out of the car, Bellamy whispers, “Night, Princess.”

God, she’s screwed.


	3. Premiere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack. 
> 
> First of all, can we talk about how much of a moron Bellamy is being on the show right now? I want to fix him with that stare my mom always used to give me and say something along the lines of, "I still love you, Bellamy, but I'm very disappointed in you right now, young man."
> 
> So yeah, I think we all need a little dose of Bellarke right now. I honestly had this chapter mostly written a few months ago, but that was also around the time I decided to become a dog mom, and the pup took over all my free time and energy (in the most wonderful way, of course). But it's high time my dog-mom-maternity-leave from writing ended.
> 
> As always, thank you for directing your eyeballs at words that came out of my brain.
> 
> Oh, and I finally decided to start a tumblr account, so if that's something you're into, feel free to follow thegirlwhowatchedeverything.
> 
> Without further ado, on to the Bellarke!

His first two months as an important character on a TV show have been a little lackluster, if Bellamy is honest with himself.

At the beginning, it was awesome. He had an important storyline in the pilot episode, but it involved his character being thrown into a dungeon at the end, which meant he spent the next five episodes having next to no lines and not even appearing in a couple.

Mostly, what that means is that Bellamy has had to make excuses to be on set. He’s taken advantage of every expert there is, from Lexa, the combat instructor who kind of hates him, to Anya, the horse trainer who’s been helping him with his riding skills, to Lincoln, who he has convinced to shirk his art department duties in favor of basically being his personal trainer.

Even then, he can’t always make an excuse to be on set, and he’s bored. Bellamy has spent the six years since his mom died in a constant state of holding down a handful of jobs at once. He’s having a lot of trouble being so idle.

One night, while flirting with the cute bartender at his favorite dive bar in Asheville, he finds himself accepting a part time bartending gig. He’s an excellent bartender from years of experience, and on the nights when he’s working, some of the cast and crew invariably show up. Jasper spends most of his time posting pictures of Bellamy on Instagram with the hashtag #BeforeTheyWereFamous.

Then on the days when Lincoln isn’t on set or training him, Bellamy tags along to Lincoln’s side jobs as a stonemason. He’s absolutely no help whatsoever and Lincoln has to beg him to stop following him, but it’s nice to try something new.

So when he gets the script for episode seven, he nearly kisses the production assistant who brings it to him. He has lines, and a lot of them. Which should be no problem. History nerds tend to be good at memorizing things. It’s the performance aspect that always worries him.

He spends hours just thinking about his character, trying to figure him out. But then in a lot of ways, Jax isn’t too terribly unlike himself.

They both grew up without fathers, though Bellamy has no recollection of his and Jax’s left when he was a toddler, so Bellamy imagines Jax probably has some vague memories of him.

Both of them lost their mothers at around the same stage in life, with Jax witnessing his mother’s murder at the hands of one of the king’s soldiers in the pilot (after which, he beats the shit out of the bastard and gets thrown in the aforementioned dungeon). Bellamy’s mom died slower than that, but not nearly slow enough.

It was crazy, actually, how fast it had all happened. The day he got home for the summer after his junior year of college, his mom had a stomachache. A week later, she had pancreatic cancer and a few months left to live. Bellamy remembers holding her hand in the doctor’s office, listening to his explanation about how pancreatic cancer is so deadly because of the lack of nerves in the area, how people only start to feel it when it’s too late. He remembers wondering how long the cancer had been there, and if she’d ever mentioned anything that should have hinted to him that she was sick. He remembers how the first thing his mother said after finding out she was dying was, “How are we ever going to tell Octavia?”

After that, he went through a slightly unusual seven stages of grief. First came the numbness, which lasted a few eerily calm weeks. Then came punching things, which soon turned into punching people, which really just meant Bellamy spent about a month getting rip-roaring drunk and instigating bar fights. Then came the uncontrollable crying, which lasted a couple weeks, and was actually more exhausting than the punching. The numbness returned after that, when it started to feel like the end was imminent. The day after the funeral, the uncontrollable crying resumed. Finally, he reached a place where, while he certainly wouldn’t call it acceptance, it was a sort of zen-like denial of having any feelings at all.

Jax seemed to go through all those stages, too, except his all played out in about thirty seconds, total.

The storyline of episode seven has Miller’s character, Kai, sneaking into the dungeon and busting Jax out. Up until this point, Jax doesn’t even know he has a half-brother, let alone a badass rebel warrior half-brother like Kai. Jax isn’t even supposed to know his dad is the rebel leader, so he’s in for a few surprises this episode.

Bellamy can’t seem to get the right emotions to come across while running lines with Miller.

“That’s your reaction to ‘I’m your brother,’ Blake?” Miller says. “That looks more like the reaction to receiving an enema.”

“You think you can do better? Let’s see what you got,” Bellamy says. He pretends to pull back a hood the way Miller will once they’re in costume, then delivers the end of Miller’s line. “I’m your brother.”

Miller nails it, of course. He sort of shifts backward a bit, opens his mouth slightly, and his eyebrows pull down, which somehow conveys a more genuine surprise than raising them would.

“You know what that expression said to me? It said, ‘Kane just told me I’m fired unless I get my balls waxed,’” Bellamy lies.

“Yeah, right. I killed it,” Miller says, grinning. “You just have to relax and stop thinking so much.”

“It’s hard to do that here,” he says, gesturing around Miller’s trailer, where Miller is now standing by a mini Keurig, making a cup of really pungent dark roast. “It feels so forced. I’m too aware that I’m _acting_. Once we get on set, in costume and everything, I’ll be fine. You know, I’ll _be_ Jax.”

“How method of you,” Miller smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. “Want a cup?”

“I’m good,” Bellamy says. Coffee makes him nervous.

Miller rejoins him at the table and clears his throat, flipping ahead in the script.

“So… should we go get Clarke and run through the rest?” Miller says a little too casually to actually be casual.

Episode seven is also when Jax meets the princess. He literally runs into her in the woods while running from the castle and bowls her over, landing, of course, on top of her. They banter a bit horizontally and she finally says something to the effect of “get off of me, you big dumb A-hole” and that’s when Kai catches up and says something to the effect of “don’t get off of her until we tie her up and kidnap her because can’t you see that’s the princess, you big dumb A-hole?”

“We agreed after the table read that we wouldn’t run lines together,” Bellamy says.

“That sounds like a really terrible idea.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Bellamy shrugs. It had been Clarke’s idea, but he’s on board. If they practice too much, he’ll over-think it and kill their chemistry.

Honestly, he’s still not sure about his character’s motivation about the whole situation. Jax’s mother was big on peace and non-confrontation, and he was raised farming and respecting their rulers. But then a soldier murders his mother for a reason the writers haven’t revealed yet and Jax has to sit and stew about that in jail for weeks. That would probably chap Bellamy’s ass a little if it were him.

He’s talked to Kane about it, and Kane just said some bullshit like, “Follow your instincts, my friend. Jax is your journey. Travel wisely.”

So he’s decided Jax will be bitter enough to join up with the rebels and be an active participant in kidnapping and sometimes being an asshole to the princess, but not bitter enough to stop himself from being in love with her deep down the whole time. He’s watched enough TV to know that a good slow burn is nothing without a healthy dose of intense, longing looks of pent up subconscious adoration.

“You’ll see tomorrow,” Bellamy says. “Tomorrow, Jila is born.”

“I’m pretty sure the fandom has already decided on ‘Lijax.’” Miller says.

Bellamy blinks. “What fandom? How is that possible? The pilot doesn’t even air until Thursday and I’ve done next to no press. I’m not even main cast.”

“Let’s check Tumblr, shall we?”

Miller pulls out an iPad and starts swiping and tapping.

“Hashtag Lijax,” he says, turning the iPad around with a flourish.

Bellamy had known a few shots of him wound up in the series trailer and he was in two promotional stills for the pilot, but he never imagined that people would care about the show before it aired, let alone care enough about his character to start pairing him up.

He scrolls down.

_Isaiah seems so boring. Bring on the sexy bad boy._

_I had to look on IMDB to figure out this character’s name, but holy shit. If Lila doesn’t tap that, we riot._

_LOOK HOW HOT THEY ARE TOGETHER. THEY WILL HAVE SUCH HOT BABIES._

There are more. So many more. And a lot of them include pictures of Clarke and Bellamy photoshopped together. It’s really, really creepy, but also the coolest thing ever.

“How does our show have so many fans already?”

“It’s a dystopian steampunk teen drama fairy tale,” Miller says, as if that’s a sufficient answer.

Bellamy’s starting to get nervous about the premiere. They’re not actually having any sort of official premiere event, as the network doesn’t want to spend money on it, but a bunch of TV critics have gotten to see the first two episodes and the reviews are mostly good, from the ones that matter anyway.

Production is scheduled to come to a halt after episode eight, while the powers that be at the network decide if the show is worth a full series order once they’ve seen a few episodes worth of ratings.

So basically, Thursday is huge. Bellamy convinced Nyko, the owner of the bar he works at, to close the bar to the public Thursday night and have a sort of informal cast and crew premiere party. They’ll play the show on all the TVs and everyone will be nervously checking Twitter for fan reaction. God, he just wants the show to do well. But it has to right? They already have a fandom. Or is that normal?

“I still don’t get all this shit,” Bellamy says.

“That’s because you weren’t at Comic Con. You should have seen it, man. All we had was some sketchy, thrown-together footage from the pilot to show and people went nuts.”

Miller, Clarke, Collins, and a few other cast members had gone with Kane to Comic Con. Bellamy watched their panel later on YouTube. It had been a little unreal how many people already seemed to care, having only heard about the idea of the show.

“Yeah, well, I’ll be there next year.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Miller says. He’s the only one Bellamy has really told about the fact that his and Clarke’s characters are endgame. It’s supposed to be a secret, after all. “Assuming, of course, that the show gets a second season.”

They share a grim look. Nobody else seems worried about getting cancelled, besides Miller and Bellamy.

After a beat, Bellamy says, “I’m going to go see if Lexa’s here. I’m worried our escape is going to look terrible if I can’t get the footwork down for fighting the guards.”

“Yeah. You definitely should do that. You look like a giant lumbering toddler in half that scene.”

Miller is a smug asshole about fight scenes. His dad is a Krav Maga instructor, and Miller was his star pupil growing up. Miller could fucking kill someone with his bare hands. Meanwhile, Bellamy is a washed up high school cross-country runner. He’s an excellent cook, though.

But then again, it kind of works because Miller’s character is supposed to be an experienced fighter while Bellamy’s is supposed to be a farmer.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

\-----

They finish shooting early on Thursday in honor of the show’s premiere that night, and Clarke hates it. Okay, so she’s a complete workaholic, but her job is awesome. Having to leave the set so early has her feeling jittery, so she looks for Lexa for a training session to let out some… whatever she’s feeling.

She finds Lexa in a clearing in the woods, already hard at work with somebody else. Bellamy.

Lexa picks him up and body slams him.

“God, you are awful,” Lexa says, looming over him. “If I can make you look halfway decent by the series finale, it will be a fucking miracle.”

Clarke has never seen this side of Lexa. She’s pretty sure she’s a terrible stage-fighter herself, but Lexa is always calmly encouraging and really positive about her glacial progress.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an excellent motivator?” Bellamy pants out sarcastically from the ground.

“Enough lip, smartass. Get up,” Lexa says, eyes narrowed.

Bellamy scrambles to his feet, still panting, and catches sight of Clarke.

“Enjoying watching me get my ass kicked, Princess?” he asks.

Lexa’s head whips around and her expression goes from murderous to fond.

It helps that Clarke’s been hooking up with Lexa for the past three weeks.

“Thoroughly,” Clarke grins. Even though she’s really not. And generally, watching Lexa manhandle people is strangely arousing.

“That’s probably enough for today, Blake,” Lexa says. “Why don’t you go find somewhere to lick your wounds and let me work with the star of the show?”

“Please. I’m not even remotely wounded.”

Lexa cold cocks him in the bicep and he winces, letting out a pathetic but somehow endearing yelp.

Clarke feels kind of bad for him. Lexa is awesome and hot and insanely good at dirty talk, but she’s acting like a bitch, and whatever Clarke’s intentions were in seeking Lexa out, she’s not really in the mood anymore.

“Actually, I was looking for Bellamy,” Clarke says. She can’t decide who looks more surprised, Lexa or Bellamy.

“At your service, Princess,” he says.

Clarke gives Lexa a weak smile and leaves the clearing, Bellamy hot on her heels.

“You’ve been working with Lexa a lot this week,” Clarke observes.

“Yeah. I just really don’t want to mess this up,” he says, falling into step beside her.

Clarke gets it. This is a really big episode for his character. Of course, every episode is big for her character, so she’s like this all the time.

“So um,” he continues. “You were looking for me?”

“Oh, right.” She hadn’t really needed to talk to him, so she says the first thing that comes to mind. “I was just wondering if I needed to bring anything. You know, for the premiere thing tonight.”

He grins. “You do realize that the only other person who approached me with a question like that was Jasper and he was referring to drugs?”

“I meant more along the lines of spinach dip or brownies.”

“I think we’ve got it covered. You know Janet, the caterer? She volunteered to help out.” Bellamy says. “But it’s really cool of you to offer.”

They’ve reached the area where all the trailers are. Bellamy doesn’t have one yet, as Kane’s still trying to keep how important his character is a secret, but Clarke imagines he’ll have one soon.

He stops walking and she backtracks, facing him.

“You were… really… good today. In our scene,” he says. In the short time she’s known him, Clarke has never known Bellamy to be hugely complimentary of others, with the obvious exclusion of Octavia. She knows her cheeks are on fire.

“Well, it’s easy to be good when you have a good scene partner,” she says lamely.

Clarke has decided to strictly compartmentalize, where Bellamy is concerned. Any feelings she thinks she may be having are clearly just overflow from the feelings her character is supposed to feel for his character deep down. It’s not real. It’s acting. But he’s blushing, too, right there clear as day under his freckles. He looks down and rubs a hand over the back of his neck and she adds “can’t take a compliment” to her mental list of things they have in common.

“So, um, are you done for the day?” he asks.

“I think so. Assuming no one stops me on the way to my car.”

“Here, you can borrow my hat,” he says, sweeping the worn UVA hat off his head and offering it to her. “You should probably invest in one of your own, though. After tonight, you’ll be a big celebrity. You’ll need one of these to ward off the paparazzi.”

“Oh, please,” she says, but she accepts the hat anyway and slides it on.

She’s busy wondering whether she should be concerned that her head is the same size as his when she looks up at him and he’s gazing down at her in a way that makes her forget to breathe for a moment.

“What?” she asks once she regains her composure.

“Nothing,” he says, voice strained. “You should keep the hat.”

And then he turns and he’s gone and Clarke is able to sneak to her car undisturbed.

Clarke’s not really sure what to wear to an unofficial TV show premiere party at a dive bar in Asheville, North Carolina. She doesn’t want to overdress or underdress, so she texts Octavia to see what she’s wearing.

Octavia responds almost immediately with a photo of herself with her arms around the neck of an obviously reluctant Bellamy. Octavia looks incredible in a pair of dark jeans with heels and a red top that looks like it could have been made out of an artfully placed scarf. And yet Bellamy’s the one she can’t stop looking at. She feels kind of creepy, but she saves the picture.

She has Lexa now. This is ridiculous.

When she arrives at the bar, it’s packed. Based on the obvious level of intoxication in the room, it seems like a lot of people came straight from the set and got started early.

She’s barely through the door before Marcus has an arm slung over her shoulder.

“My star,” he says fondly.

“Oh captain, my captain,” Clarke says.

Looking around, Clarke spots Jasper trying desperately to impress Maya with his nonexistent dart-throwing skills (and, apparently, succeeding against all odds). Monty is down at the end of the bar with Miller, laughing uncharacteristically uproariously. If Clarke isn’t mistaken, Octavia is tying a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue, an ability she’s boasted of before, though Clarke has never witnessed it. The screwed up look on her face is a dead giveaway. And then she locks eyes with Finn, because as usual, when she happens to glance at him, he’s already staring at her. The unusual part is that he’s holding hands with someone, an impossibly beautiful, fierce, badass goddess who Clarke recognizes as WWE Diva Raven Reyes. She’s done her YouTube research.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Marcus says, reading her mind, dragging her toward the bar. “I’m personally picking up the entire bar tab so please, no poppin’ bottles of Cristal.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t have that here.”

Bellamy is behind the bar with a brunette pouring tequila directly from the bottle down his throat. The brunette is holding a lime wedge between her teeth. Clarke knows where this is going. She makes a point not to look when Bellamy takes the lime directly from the cute girl’s mouth.

“Princess!” he exclaims, and she makes a show of acting like she hadn’t even seen him there, despite the fact that she’s very clearly standing at the bar directly in front of him. It doesn’t seem to faze him. “Let me make you a drink.”

“You’re bartending _tonight_?” Clarke can’t help grinning a little smugly at how quickly he seemed to forget about tequila girl when he spotted her.

Clarke was surprised when she found out about Bellamy’s side gig, but he looks like a natural standing behind a bar. She’s been too chicken to hang out with the cast and crew much since the lake, so this is her first time witnessing Bartender Bellamy. And this was exactly what she’d worried about. How is it possible that he looks even hotter right now?

She’s grateful for Marcus’ presence at her side because there are a lot of really stupid things she could do right now.

“Not officially,” he says. “Just making drinks for the people I like.” He fucking winks.

“Okay, barkeep, do your worst. Or your best, I guess. Just make it good.”

“Another scotch for you, boss?” Bellamy says to Marcus, who nods.

Bellamy pours the scotch first, then gets to work on what looks like a seriously intense cocktail. He uses at least three different liquor bottles, wine, and beer, and the end result is a full pint glass of a pinkish liquid.

“Looks kind of girly,” Clarke teases.

“That’ll knock you on your ass, Princess. And personally, I can’t wait to watch.”

She takes a sip and it tastes sort of like a pink Starburst, which is of course her favorite Starburst.

“Definitely girly,” she says, smirking.

“Jesus, stop flirting,” Kane interjects. “We had a deal, remember?”

“We’re not flirting,” Clarke says. “We’re friends.”

“We are?” Bellamy says.

“I mean, yeah,” she says, shyly. “I thought we were.”

“Cool,” Bellamy says, grinning.

Marcus looks back and forth between them. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re _still_ flirting!”

They both erupt in denials simultaneously. Marcus sighs.

“Let’s make a new deal,” he says. “Try really, really hard not to be a thing. And if you animals absolutely can’t control yourselves, at least keep that shit on lockdown. If I see so much as one vaguely affectionate picture or one eyewitness account of some not-so-clandestine canoodling in the tabloids, I’m killing off both of your characters and starting from scratch. Capish?”

“It’s not going to happen, Marcus,” Clarke defends. “Like I said, we’re friends. And I’m seeing someone.”

“You are?” Marcus and Bellamy say together. Clarke nods confidently.

“Who?” Bellamy asks.

She glances sidelong at Marcus. “Lexa.”

“That… is awesome,” Bellamy says.

“Lexa the fighting chick?” Marcus says.

“I think she prefers combat specialist,” Clarke says.

She has a feeling that Marcus, like most people over a certain age, will just assume she’s strictly into girls. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world because then maybe he’d drop the Bellamy thing.

“Does your mom know?”

She came out to her mom years ago, but they’ve never discussed it again. Her mom pissed her off so much with words like “phase” and “experimentation” that she never really felt compelled to renew the dialogue.

But it would probably be better for her purposes for Marcus to believe her mother doesn’t know. That way he doesn’t feel compelled to discuss it with her mother and find out that she actually could swing Bellamy’s way.

“No,” she says, which isn’t strictly a lie because her mom doesn’t know about Lexa. Clarke doesn’t make a habit of talking to her mom about people she’s been having casual sex with for a few weeks.

As if on cue, Lexa appears.

“Hey,” Lexa says.

Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand. “Hey.”

Lexa looks down at their joined hands quizzically.

“Okay,” she says, nodding. “I can rock with this.”

Clarke drinks two of Bellamy’s Starburst drinks before the show even starts and she has to admit it, he was right. She’s damn thoroughly drunk.

Everyone goes quiet when the show starts. Clarke watches, but she’s absolutely too drunk to pay attention. It’s kind of weird watching herself anyway.

She really, really has to pee by the time her first scene with Finn starts, so she decides to kill two birds with one stone and avoid having to watch herself with Finn by sneaking off to the bathroom.

When Clarke comes out of the stall, Raven is there, standing by the sink and apparently texting. Clarke pauses, then decides to stop being weird and steps forward to wash her hands.

“You’re Clarke,” Raven says, not looking up from her phone.

“You’re Raven,” Clarke responds. They never officially met when Raven showed up to Finn’s callback, but at least Raven isn’t lame and full of pretense.

“Am I correct in assuming you’re the one Finn cheated on me with?”

Holy shit.

“I didn’t know about you until his callback. And that ended it. I’m not like that,” Clarke says.

Raven lets out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I figured. Don’t even worry about that. I just needed some confirmation before I made any drastic moves, and I knew he’d never give that to me.”

“I’m really sorry, for what it’s worth,” Clarke says, too drunk to think of anything else to say.

“No. Fuck that. You have nothing to apologize for. The guy I’ve loved for most of my life betrayed me and played you. That’s not your fault or mine. That’s on him.”

Raven is eerily calm about this whole thing. Clarke kind of worships her. She doesn’t even want to fuck her, she just wants to be her.

“So… what are you going to do?” Clarke asks.

“I’m going to let him enjoy the rest of tonight, because tomorrow, I will end him.”

Clarke can’t help it. She launches herself at Raven and hugs the bejesus out of her. “You’re awesome. Can we be friends?”

Raven laughs. “I guess Finn still has one redeeming quality. He has excellent taste in women.”

They exchange numbers, then stagger their bathroom exits to keep Finn blissfully ignorant.

She’s back just in time for one of Bellamy’s big scenes, the one where he beats up the soldier who killed his mother. His presence in front of the camera is overwhelming, his pain so damn authentic. He’s unreal. He’s so good. So, so good. She finds him in the crowd, and apparently, he was watching her watch the scene. Or maybe she just happened to catch his eyes while he was briefly glancing at her. Probably the latter.

Either way, she finds herself drawn to him, reeled in, making her way toward him before she’s consciously aware that’s what she’s doing. She grabs his arm and pulls him to the door marked “Employees Only,” into what is very clearly a storage room slash office.

“We’re on TV,” she says.

He laughs, deep and gravelly and fantastic. “Yeah, we are.”

Before she can stop herself (a pattern with him), she says, “Who’s the brunette? The bartender?”

“You mean Gina? We work together.”

Clarke leans against the closed door. “Well, duh. I just meant… I don’t know.”

“She got me the job. We pour drinks together. It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Clarke says. “It looked like she had ideas of her own about dragging you in here. But, you know, if it was her, she’d probably want you to come a lot closer.”

He eyes her suspiciously, but she raises an eyebrow in challenge and he takes the bait, crossing the room until he’s firmly in Clarke’s personal space.

“Then what? What would _she_ expect next?” He asks.

“Then, she’d want you to pull her right up against you.”

He wraps an arm behind her back and hauls her flush against him. “Uh huh,” he says.

“And touch her hair, yeah, she’d like that…”

He does.

“And look deep in her eyes…”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“And lean in…”

“And?”

“And…” she trails off.

Her eyes flutter closed and she can feel the subtle shift in the air indicating he’s inching closer and closer. She’s pretty sure she can hear his heartbeat from this distance. She wants this. She wants this bad.

His lips just barely graze hers – or maybe they don’t, maybe she’s imagined it – when the door bursts open, knocking into Clarke’s back, and they lurch apart.

“What the fuck?” Octavia says. “Were you making out against the door?”

“Of course not,” Clarke says. “We were just talking.”

“Right,” O says, suspicious. “Whatever you say. Anyway, the show’s over. Everyone wants to sing your praises but no one could find you.”

Bellamy rubs the back of his neck. “On it,” he says, ducking out of the room, pointedly avoiding looking in Clarke’s direction.

Before Clarke can follow, Octavia closes the door.

“Clarke, you know I’m borderline obsessed with you and think you’re awesome, right?”

Clarke smiles. “I was vaguely aware.”

“That all goes out the window if you fuck with my brother, okay? So don’t fuck with him. He’s more fragile than he looks.”

“I’m not fucking with him. We’re friends.”

“Uh huh,” Octavia says. “Just remember, you’ve been warned.”

\-----

Bellamy has always had a very well-developed understanding of his subconscious motivations for doing things. He’s never been able to keep things from himself, even in times when denial might have been nice. His subconscious becomes conscious pretty damn quick.

When he was five and couldn’t seem to stop himself from pulling Roma Valentine’s hair and calling her Fart Breath, it didn’t take long for him to figure out that he was doing it because he liked her (which didn’t make him stop). When he went through that violent period in high school, he knew all his daddy issues were finally manifesting, but it didn’t bother him too much. And when he chose psychology as his second major in college, he knew it was because deep down, he was desperate to understand other people as well as he understood himself.

So at the end of the night when he stumbles out of the passenger side of Gina’s car as she’s dropping him home and says “You should come in for a bit,” he knows exactly why he’s doing it.

Gina’s just fine. In fact, she’s pretty great. She’s beautiful in a really natural, approachable way, she smells really good, and she actually tolerates his lengthy history rants at work. All totally valid reasons for wanting to sleep with her. Except that’s not what’s going on.

He knows what he’s doing. This is about Clarke. And he’s ashamed of himself.

Just not ashamed enough not to sleep with Gina. And not ashamed enough to stop sleeping with her night after night.

Within the next week or so, they finish filming episode eight, the last episode the network has ordered, and production shuts down. The ratings for the pilot were huge in the key demo and only got better for the second episode, so Bellamy’s not sure what more the network needs to know to greenlight the full series order.

He mentions this to Gina on day three of not filming.

“I’m sure you’ll get to start shooting again soon,” Gina reassures him. “I mean, that show is surprisingly good.”

“Surprisingly, huh?”

“I’m still not sure it’s entirely scientifically plausible, though. I mean, is there any research to support the idea that when global warming melts all the world’s ice, all that will be left above sea level will be the peaks of the highest mountains poking out of the water like cone-shaped islands?”

“I’ll have to Google it.”

“Don’t bother. I’m better off just trying to suspend my disbelief.”

Bellamy hides his grin behind his sandwich. Gina is actually really, really great.

“Thanks for agreeing to come over for lunch,” he says. “It’s getting harder and harder for me to go anywhere without hordes of teenage girls giggling and whispering.”

“I’m just glad I get to see you during daylight hours,” she says, uncharacteristically shy.

He had to stop working at the bar after word got out that Jax from _Mount Weather_ , the hottest new show on TV, worked there. The bar was constantly full of girls who had no intention of ever actually buying anything, which was, obviously, massively annoying and unprofitable.

This might be the first time he’s seen Gina during the day outside the bar. He is a horrible, horrible person.

On the table, his phone buzzes. It’s a text from Kane.

_Full season pickup. Report to set bright and early tomorrow._

He can’t help it. He lets out a whoop. Then he jumps up out of his chair, drags Gina out of hers, picks her up, and swings her around in circles. She laughs, a surprisingly deep, full sound.

“Good news about the show?” she asks, still grinning after he sets her down.

“The best news. We got picked up for a whole season.”

They have excellent congratulatory sex and afterward, Bellamy starts to wonder if maybe this isn’t about Clarke anymore. Maybe it’s about Gina. He hopes it is, anyway. She deserves to be more than a band-aid.

\-----

Clarke is so elated to be back at work that she does something incredibly stupid and asks Lexa out on a date. To this point, their relationship has been more hooking up than dating, and she fears Lexa will be spooked. But Lexa seems pleasantly surprised, and they make plans to try out some vegan place Lexa’s been dying to try. Clarke, an unapologetic carnivore, thinks it sounds awful, but Lexa seems excited about it so she’ll deal.

At dinner, they pretty much immediately get into the worst first date conversation you can have – they talk about their exes. Clarke confides in Lexa about the whole Finn thing, and if she’s not mistaken, Lexa’s expression displays a twinge of something like disappointment when she finds out Clarke is bi. It doesn’t entirely surprise her. Clarke remembers an LGBTQ mixer she went to her first week of college, which she left in a state of explosive rage after some bitch said, “I feel like people who say they’re bi are really just looking for attention.”

“So what about you?” Clarke asks, desperate to change the subject.

“Just one serious relationship. Costia. The whole thing was very public and it ended badly. You never heard anything about it?”

Clarke is well aware that Lexa used to be a fairly prominent MMA fighter, but she also seems to overestimate her fame sometimes.

“Assume you’re talking to someone who’s never followed MMA,” Clarke says.

Lexa takes a sip of the nasty organic wine she can’t stop raving about. “She’s a fighter, too. We trained together. Long story short, she got injured, her neck, in this really brutal, graphic way during a fight. It finally dawned on me that our lives were on the line every time we fought, and for what? So I told her I was quitting and I wanted her to quit, too, because with her injury, continuing to fight is even more dangerous than it is for everyone else.” Lexa swirls the wine around her glass. “Needless to say, she picked MMA over me.”

Clarke has no idea what to say. So she settles on, “That sucks.”

Lexa sighs. “Yeah.”

“Do you ever hear from her?”

“No.” Lexa seems transfixed by the napkin in her lap. “It’s better that way.”

The silence that follows is awkward, painfully so.

And then an awkward A-bomb descends on the restaurant when Bellamy walks in with that girl who was pouring tequila down his throat at the premiere party. Clarke nearly chokes on a bite of… tofu, she thinks? Wasn't that what the complimentary appetizer was made of?

He spots them, and of course he comes over, holding that girl’s hand and kind of shuffling like he wishes he could be walking the opposite direction.

As he approaches, Clarke runs through at least a dozen opening lines. So of course, she opens with, “Hey.”

“Hey Clarke. Lexa.” He lets go of the girl’s hand and puts his arm around her waist.

“Blake,” Lexa says, humorless.

He mostly ignores her. “Have you met Gina? This is Gina.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gina says, smiling attractively. She extends her hand and it takes Clarke entirely too long to realize she’s supposed to shake it. “I remember seeing both of you at the premiere party but I don’t think we met.”

“You should join us,” Clarke blurts out. She’s not sure what possessed her to say it and she can feel Lexa’s laser beam glare boring holes in the side of her head, but it’s out there and she can’t take it back.

Bellamy seems to be about as enthusiastic about the idea as Lexa is, but Gina says, “Sure, why not?” and there’s no escaping now.

Clarke waves their waiter over and has him provide place settings for their new additions and Bellamy and Gina join them, Bellamy across from Clarke.

“So, Clarke, obviously I know what you do,” Gina says. “Are you on the show, too, Lexa?”

“Not in front of the camera. I just have the borderline impossible job of trying to make it look like your boyfriend knows how to fight.”

“Lexa’s the combat coordinator,” Clarke says, trying to draw the attention away from how rude Lexa is being.

“What can I say?” Bellamy says, all good humor and charm. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“You certainly are,” Gina says, and the way she looks at Bellamy makes Clarke vaguely nauseated.

“And what is it that you do, Gina?” Lexa asks.

“Well, I bartend nights and weekends. That’s how I met Bellamy. But during the day, I teach kindergarten.”

Of course she does.

“That’s awesome, Gina,” Clarke says sincerely. “I think if I wasn’t an actor, I’d want to be an art teacher.”

“Seriously?” Lexa asks, dubious. “I can’t see that at all.”

“Really?” Bellamy cuts in. “Because I definitely can. You’d be a great teacher, Clarke. I just didn’t know you were into art.”

“It’s a side passion,” Clarke says quietly.

There’s a silence then that stretches a few seconds too long, but thankfully, Gina seems to be adept at dispelling awkwardness. “What were you shooting today?” She asks.

“My favorite scene yet, actually,” Clarke says, grinning. “Bellamy’s character and my character are arguing, as per usual, and he kind of explodes at her about what happened to his mom. It’s the first time my character starts to really realize that maybe her parents are the bad guys. Your guy here,” she says, jerking a thumb at Bellamy, “was a force of nature.”

Bellamy blushes scarlet. “No way. I just had to blow up. You’re the one who masterfully conveyed about a thousand complex emotions in just a few seconds of facial expressions.”

“All I did was react. You’re the one who drove the emotional tone of the scene.”

“Yeah, but you—“

“Okay, we get it!” Lexa interrupts rather louder than necessary. “You’re both fucking amazing. Can we just order? Where the fuck is our waiter?”

Clarke finds that making it through the rest of the night is easiest when she completely avoids looking at both Bellamy and Lexa, so it’s a really good thing Gina is sweet, outgoing, and a fantastic conversation partner. It’s also the worst thing ever, because for some reason, she really didn’t want to like Gina.

As soon as they get in Lexa’s car after the nightmare is over, Lexa immediately rounds on Clarke. “What the fuck was that?” She angrily puts the car in gear.

Clarke is flabbergasted. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Could you have been any ruder?”

“Probably,” Lexa spits back. “Could _you_ have been any more obvious?”

“What are you talking about, Lexa,” Clarke says, with a combination of frustration and emotional exhaustion that makes it come out like more of a statement than a question.

“You and Blake. I tried to ignore it and believe you when you said there’s nothing going on. But either you’re lying to me or so massively in denial that it’s fucking sad.”

“Lexa, we work together.”

“Yeah, well so do you and I, and you don’t look at me or talk about me that way. You care about him.”

“I care about everyone I work with.”

“Yeah well,” Lexa says sadly, “you care about him more.”

Clarke sighs. “I can see that I’m not going to convince you, but honestly, nothing is going on between Bellamy and me.”

“So I guess it’s denial then?”

“Lexa, come on—“

“No, you come on. I can’t do this anymore. I refuse to be a consolation prize for that… oaf.”

The restaurant wasn’t far, and they’re pulling up in front of Clarke’s house already. “He’s not an oaf,” Clarke says quietly.

Lexa stares at her, then just shakes her head, chuckling softly. “You see, that right there, the fact that you were more concerned with defending him than with convincing me to stay with you, that’s the problem here.” Lexa shifts her gaze back to the road ahead and puts her hands stiffly back on the steering wheel. “I have to go now. Goodbye, Clarke.”

Clarke climbs out of the car, unable to come up with a response. Lexa peels out, tires screeching noisily, and Clarke retreats into the house.

She throws her purse on the floor and shuffles to the couch, immediately flopping down on her back, making a silent promise to herself never to get involved with someone she works with ever again.


End file.
